Winter Solstice in St. Nacho's (St. Nacho's #5) - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,45
park where we’d watched the movie together.
Some of the guys in attendance were newer and white-knuckling the environment, but others socialized freely, doing the cookout together like a well-oiled machine.
We had burgers and hot dogs. Someone’s wife brought a plastic baggie full of bratwurst she’d slow cooked with onions and stock, which we threw on the grill and ate in buttered, toasted rolls with grainy mustard and sauerkraut.
I’d picked up several family-sized bags of chips and made three different dips—queso, green onion, and my mother’s vegetable dip with soup mix, mayo, sour cream, spinach, and water chestnuts.
Roberta got a Sponge Bob sheet cake at Costco that said Congratulations!
I watched the kids play with their dads. There was a real connection between them now where they’d been tentative when I’d watched them before. This reunification of families was obviously the most satisfying part for Roberta who watched them, face glowing with happiness.
I saw recovery from a new perspective because of her, and Dr. Franklin, and the people I’d met from Hope House.
I cared about this group of men who lived with a lifelong chronic illness. Treatment for their acute symptoms had been successful, but the long-term prognosis depended on the understanding that maintaining their health required a commitment to regular physical monitoring and behavior modification.
It wouldn’t be easy for anyone.
Some would slip and require treatment for acute symptoms again.
What was so clear to me now was that the stigma and shame we put on addicts simply compounded the probability of a poor outcome. Judgment had no place within the context of the cure.
My new perspective made me want to be part of the solution with Echo and Roberta and Dr. Franklin more than ever. They’d shown me the other side of the moon—the half not spotlit by the negative aspects of the drug war. It was simply a matter of medicine and science, not fear.
“What’s that look about?” Tug asked from beside me.
“What do you mean?”
“You look like you grabbed a high-voltage wire in the rain.”
I glanced over. “It’s nothing.”
“You’re sure you’re okay?” He narrowed his eyes.
“I am.” I stood so I could reach across the table and spoon dip onto my plate. Grabbing a bag of chips, I offered some to Tug. “Here. Try this.”
He picked up a chip and tried the vegetable dip. “That’s good.”
“What do you want? Hot dog, brat, burger?”
“You gonna serve me?” One eyebrow went up.
“You bet.” I got to my feet. “You’re the rock star today.”
He gave an eye roll. “Burger with cheese, please.”
“Mayo, mustard, ketchup? Relish?”
“Just mayo. You really don’t have to serve me. I can—”
“I’ve got it. You’re the graduate. My treat.”
Tug smiled shyly as I went to get him a plate of food.
Whatever they’d done with Tug’s meds had leveled his emotions out some. Not only did he seem calmer and less reactive, he smiled easily now.
I made the burger he wanted and loaded it on a plate with a couple of hot dogs for me and an assortment of salads, which I took back to the table before getting a couple of small plates so we could each pick and choose what we wanted.
It felt entirely normal now to spoon tidbits I knew he liked onto his plate, refilling his drink as necessary while he talked with his friends about the plans they were making for the future.
“No, eat this first.” I poked a bit more salad his way just to be a pest. “Then you can have more chips.”
He shot me a glare, but dutifully stabbed a cherry tomato with his plastic fork.
“How long have you guys been together?” Jennifer asked. Her expression was as tender and warm as the one she wore for her husband, who had turned a corner and worked really hard to make his way back to her and their kids.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“You hear that, Conan? She thinks we’re a couple.” Tug gave me a nudge. “Luke’s just a good friend.”
“Oh shoot. I just assumed, didn’t I? I’m so sorry.” Her grin was sheepish. “It’s good to have friends too.”
“It is,” Tug agreed.
“I miss seeing your parents, Luke,” she said. “Were they not able to make it today?”
I wiped my mouth before speaking. “No, unfortunately Dad’s got a bad cold, and they didn’t want to infect everyone.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said. “Tell him I hope he feels better soon.”
“Mom’s healthy, and she feels horrible about not being here for you,” I told Tug.